


Crumbling Like Pastries

by magnetar



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Button Popping, Feeding, Hand Feeding, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 16:42:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30024759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetar/pseuds/magnetar
Summary: ‘Here,’ Hux says, careful to keep his tone as disinterested as usual. He wafts the panzerotti in Kylo’s direction, the wholesome warmth bleeding through the waxy brown paper onto Hux’s fingertips. ‘Eat it then, you prick.’
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31





	Crumbling Like Pastries

  


‘Here,’ Hux says, careful to keep his tone as disinterested as usual. He wafts the panzerotti in Kylo’s direction, the wholesome warmth bleeding through the waxy brown paper onto Hux’s fingertips. ‘Eat it then, you prick.’ 

  


Kylo regards him with one eyebrow raised. That inch of height difference between seems to swell into a mile, as Kylo somehow manages to look down on him. The git, Hux thinks, trust him to defy the laws of nature. 

  


‘We waited a half-hour in line for you to give me your panzerotti,’ he says grumpily, after a pause so long that Hux had really started to worry that Kylo was onto him. ‘You said you were about to pass out from hunger. That’s why I fucking waited.’ 

  


Hux is constantly in fear that Kylo will find him out. Hux keeps his secrets like pressed flowers, carefully dried and hidden between waxy pages, only to be taken out to be admired before being once again set carefully into their proper places. The thought that Kylo might see right through him, might know Hux’s terrible secrets (how Hux insists they take their lunch out together almost every day, promptly at 1 o’clock, when Hux had never bothered about such trivial things before, just to see the delicious sight of Kylo indulging and overindulging).

  


(How despite Hux’s cold, aloof exterior and downright meanness towards Kylo isn’t actual malice… more like… like…)

  


‘Well, my appetite seems to have mysteriously evaporated,’ Hux sniffs, trying to affect a kind of calm indifference to the whole situation even as he feels his cheeks flame with heat. ‘Must have been spending so much time in your presence.’    
  


He purposefully looks Kylo up and down, to drive home his point, in a way that’s cold and calculating on the outside as if he’s picking away at Kylo’s every flaw, but has him sweating on the inside. Shit, Kylo always looks good but today he looks particularly good - a rare two-piece suit that would have looked like a hand-me-down when they’d first met but now clings in all the right places - to Kylo’s broad shoulders and powerful biceps, the two sides parting in the middle to make way for the thick curve of Kylo’s stomach. 

  


‘Yeah,’ Hux thinks, feeling for a brief moment like a powdered and primped Victorian aunt in need of her smelling salts. ‘That jacket definitely won’t button.’ 

  


In fact, even the buttons on Kylo’s shirt seem to be straining under the duress but Hux dares not linger there for too long, lest he glimpse an inch of pearly, white skin. Hux is sure that it’s undeniably weird to be so invested in his coworker and occasional enemy’s weight. Kylo wears being big so well, though. It’s so natural how Kylo takes up space like he’s got his own gravity; how Kylo is all firm, rounded lines now from his shoulders to his thighs, to his belly; how Kylo seems to unconsciously spread his legs a little wider so that his belly can rest comfortably on his thighs when he sits. How sometimes, after Hux has taken him out for a big lunch, Kylo will lean back in his chair with one hand resting on the bloated curve of his belly and an expression of complete contentment on his face. How it makes Hux feel all sickly, squirmy inside to see Kylo so satisfied.

  


Snapping back to the moment with a start, Hux glances towards Kylo’s face. The other man’s brows are drawn together, a deep furrow between them as he stares at the panzerotti as if it has personally offended him. Hux swallows, the sound ringing in his ears. Maybe he should have just suggested that Italian place a few blocks away that Kylo liked. What was he thinking? Making Kylo wait outside on a chilly October day in New York when...

  


‘You seem,’ Kylo’s eyebrows draw even closer together, a feat that Hux wasn’t sure was even possible. And yet Kylo, of course, manages it. Prick. Wanker. ‘Distracted, today.’

  


‘Yes by you, you oaf,’ Hux replies too quickly before realising his mistake. ‘By, uh, your ridiculousness, of course!’ The sweat beads at the back of his neck, along the collar of his Gucci sweater vest. Impossibly, he feels too warm. 

  


‘Well, are you going to eat it or not?’ Hux asks, a little too tetchy; the red has settled over his vision now. He waves the offending parcel of tomato-y, cheesy, doughy, goodness in Kylo’s face. ‘I should just… I should just throw this whole thing in the trash. I don’t know why I thought-’

  


Cool fingers close around Hux’s wrist, holding it gently in place. Big, Hux realises distantly as his body freezes like a rabbit caught in headlights. Big fingers, belonging to big hands, belonging to a big...

  


‘Don’t be an idiot,’ Kylo replies, stonily. 

  


A big asshole, apparently. Hux feels his mouth flap open but for once no sound is forthcoming. He can’t even summon the wherewithal to be properly offended. 

  


‘You’d just throw this whole thing out? What a waste of good food.’ 

  


‘Hrmp,’ Hux manages but it’s lost in the sound of the street around them, swept up in the bustle of cars, the froth of other people’s conversation as they pass them on the sidewalk, and the hammering of Hux’s own heart as Kylo leans forward and takes a bite of the panzerotti. It’s so big that Hux can only watch in shock as Kylo’s lips brush Hux’s fingertips, just for one aching moment before Kylo withdraws, chewing heartily.

  


_ Pop. _

  


Surely, Hux thinks even as his gaze drifts down, this is a dream. Surely it’s too good to be true. Kylo couldn’t have popped a button on that damn tight shirt, right across the widest part of his belly, right in the middle of the street after he’d eaten straight from Hux’s hands. 

  


‘Oops,’ Kylo says, examining the state of his shirt with a neutral, unbothered expression. ‘This shirt had it coming. Teach it to be so damn tight.’ 

  


‘Yes,’ Hux says after a moment, still sounding a little strangled but mostly composing himself again. ‘I’m sure it was the shirt’s fault.’ 


End file.
